Evergreen
by sleepy8hollows
Summary: <html><head></head>But then there was Summer. Blindingly radiant and as brilliant as the sun. He was in all senses his polar opposite. They were two forces who could never, under any circumstance, exist together.How could Arthur, the embodiment of Winter, get close to someone who would light his world on fire?</html>


_**Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.**_  
><em><strong>-Sinclair Lewis<strong>_

His life was a new breed of mundane; he was the embodiment of tedious work, the spirit of a thankless job…

And they never even got his blasted name right.

Arthur Kirkland truly hated humans. He hated how they shivered and cursed under their breath as he passed them. Not that they could _see him_, mind you, but it was rude all the same.

_Jack Frost _they called him, bah!

He flitted past a girl now, watching a shiver ripple through her, snickering as a hand was brought up to rub at her raw, runny nose. How fragile they were. They were all equally boring in his eyes. He delighted in making them sick.

No one appreciated him; those that did were few and far in-between.

They preferred to bask in the warmth of summer.

And Summer was a pompous bastard if you asked him.

He licked his lips, settling on a branch high atop one of the barren trees, one he'd personally tore the leaves off from. It had been in one of his fits, one of his _moods, _on one of those days he'd flown past towns like a cyclone, riding the bitter breeze he'd created. That day he'd stopped at this tree in particular and glared.

Summer seemed to have spared this tree, keeping it green despite the reds and orange and yellows beside it, it was an enigma to most how it had stayed so alive.

That man and his damned meddling.

Arthur had made quick work of it.

He held his knees to his chest and watched with a curl of his lip as the wood hardened with frost underneath him now. He wondered if Summer's ever- smug expression would sour when he saw it.

If he saw it.

If he cared.

If he even bothered to acknowledge Arthur after all these years. They hadn't spoken in ages, after all.

There were four of them and of them all Arthur was the least social of the bunch. Spring, a certain idiot with hair to his arse and a goatee that looked equally ridiculous, loved melting his world and washing it away with one of his showers. The two bickered incessantly and often couldn't agree as to when the other should give up.

And yet, they still had the misfortune of talking to one another.

Fall, a meek boy with curls and curious lavender blue eyes, offered a word every now and again. He was rather polite, really.

But then there was Summer. He was in all senses his polar opposite. They were two forces who could never, under any circumstance, exist together. While things got heated with Spring and himself, it was to no degree the same as interactions with Summer.

Summer, Alfred Jones was the name he'd coined for himself, was blindingly radiant. His skin glimmered and his teeth shone as bright as the sun. He looked so _alive; _constantly spoke with so much life and enthusiasm that it sickened Arthur. Arthur, who could imagine nothing but a world in which he brought on death and destruction.

He sneered, springing to his feet and blowing a harsh wind out from pursed lips. Icicles grew steadily out from each branch and the girl below him sniffled louder.

Brilliant.

"You really did a number on this tree, didn't you, Arthur?"

He couldn't help but jump.

The voice was undeniably male, so warm (could a voice be warm? Arthur considered himself foolish in that instant for thinking so) that he shivered.

Shivered. _Him_. The embodiment of winter.

How dreadfully curious.

He dismissed the thought in favor of turning around. And what he saw warmed him further (and frustrated him simultaneously).

"Summer." He said coldly, hoping his voice was harsh enough to counteract the other's.

"Call me Alfred, _really_."

He hated how amused he sounded.

He hated what it did to him.

"I'd rather not."

A weird, half-smile played on the man's lips at his answer. "It's funny how your eyes are green." He commented out of the blue.

"Excuse me? I fail to see the humor in that."

A whirlwind of flurries spun around Arthur, the aforementioned eyes of his piercing to slits.

"It's just you seem to hate green." Alfred continued, that bizarre grin of his aggravating Arthur to no end.

Arthur stared at him blankly.

"This tree reminded me a lot of your eyes, you know."

He had no reply to that, all attempts at a comeback dying on his tongue.

"I sometimes wonder why my eyes are blue, too." Summer went on, walking forward to where he was on the branch. "And not green like yours."

Winter scuffled back without thinking.

The girl underneath them sneezed.

"I think you gave that girl a cold down there." He commented teasingly.

This Arthur couldn't help but scoff at, finally regaining his voice. "If I did, it isn't my fault. She should've dressed for the weather."

"It looked to me as if you were messing with her on purpose." A chuckle.

Damn him.

Arthur's brows raised high on his forehead. "What? Were you watching me, Summer?"

"_Alfred_."

Winter huffed, ignoring him. "Perhaps I did get her sick." He muttered under his breath finally. "But what I do is none of your concern, is it?"

_Was it?_ He wondered, despite himself. An inkling of an unnamed emotion swelling inside him.

He cleared his throat, willing down the blush that was threatening to rise on his face.

"Hmm," was the man's only response. He offered such a painfully dazzling smile that Arthur had to avert his eyes.

And then a hand was reaching out, brushing past his cheek to push back a lock of platinum blonde hair behind his ear.

His face felt like fire where he'd touched him.

And then as soon as it had come the feeling was gone.

And Summer was gone with it.

* * *

><p>When he saw him again, the snow had melted. He was in one of his yearly spats with Spring, telling the season what was what and where he could take it and shove it and trying to rip up the daisies the jerk had planted in place of his ice.<p>

And that's when he saw him.

He was as hard to look at as ever, and Arthur found himself struggling to make eye contact (not that he desperately craved it or anything). God, it was as if the man was trying to outdo the sun he was so bright.

"Alfred!" Spring greeted cheerfully, eagerly jumping on the chance to ignore Winter. "Such a wonderful surprise!"

Arthur hated how familiar his tone was. He wanted to freeze him in that instant.

But Alfred wasn't looking at Spring; his eyes were fixated on Arthur.

"Hello to you both."

It was clear to whom he was speaking.

He kept coming closer—too close for comfort, so close Arthur wondered if he could melt, if it were possible for him to suffer the same fate as what he created.

"I've missed you."

The longing in his voice was thinly-veiled

He blinked owlishly in return, a strange tingling running through him, an odd warmth flooding his body the inside-out. "…I've….m-missed….I've missed you, too."

It was slightly unnerving how he was uttering such confessions without thinking.

But he couldn't chastise himself for it because the smile he received was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

Once again his body felt like it was burning.

* * *

><p>The third time they met, it was mid-July. Summer was dancing about; obviously pleased with himself and with all the green he had created.<p>

Arthur didn't know why he'd come to see him. He hadn't meant to actively seek him out. He shouldn't be here, really. There were places still that belonged to him now. Places he could be where the sun didn't touch. Places where it was still cold and he could reign.

But he had come here instead. He'd come to see Alfred, unconscious a decision as it was.

Summer's bright blues locked onto him, widening in shock.

The dancing ceased.

"Arthur?"

His voice was small, disbelieving.

But happy. His lips quivered before erupting in a grin Arthur didn't think he deserved.

"Arthur." He repeated, more sure of himself now.

Alfred was there in an instant, engulfing him in his arms for reasons Winter couldn't fathom.

He welcomed the feeling this time, as searing as it was.

It felt…comfortable.

"You're freezing," Summer joked, releasing him from his hold.

"I'm Winter, am I not?" Arthur's even tone betrayed his rapidly beating heart. "It's in the job description."

Summer laughed something short, something sweet. "I want to show you something."

It was a tree.

And at first Arthur couldn't recognize it. There was nothing overly distinct about it; it was the same lively green as the rest of them. Nothing stood out.

He narrowed his eyes, straining for anything particularly noteworthy.

"It's grown its leaves back." Summer whispered, answering his unspoken question, his finger trailing down the bark.

And then Arthur remembered.

"I wanted you to see it. It reminds me of your eyes, you know." Alfred kept on.

"Y-You've told me as much."

Alfred gaze lingered on him a little longer than necessary. "I wanted you to see the comparison for yourself."

Arthur really looked this time, trying to find how any part of him could look even a fraction as alive.

"I've watched you for a long time." Summer admitted, a vague look of nostalgia washing over him as he spoke. "You seem unhappy," a small frown tugged down at his lips (Arthur found himself wondering if he'd ever had such a miniscule thing cause him such pain. Nothing he could think of came close to what that frown was doing to him now), "most of the time, at least. I began to wonder why you were so upset.

"Then I realized you feel responsible for everything, don't you? You feel as though you cause death."

"I kill." Winter insisted stubbornly.

"You didn't kill this." He gestured to the tree.

"Only because you brought it back!" Arthur snapped without thought.

Summer chuckled. "Without you, Arthur, I'd have no purpose. We exist to compliment each other. I bring back what you put to sleep. We are two halves of a whole, don't you see?"

"We're opposites." Arthur refuted.

A smirk. "Opposites attract, do they not?"

There was a tense moment, a silence between them.

And then there was a kiss.

A scorching,_ freezing_, wonderful kiss that took the both of them for surprise but at the same time seemed planned all along.

It sealed something in that moment, shifted something in the world. And Arthur felt himself holding on as tightly as he could.

* * *

><p>Such an odd thing, people comment to this day, of a tree that keeps its leaves year round.<p>

Such an odd thing, indeed.


End file.
